Through the Speedforce
by SpiderSilkTales
Summary: Everyone knows that Wally West was killed at REACH... but was he really? Three years later, when reports of a young boy with meta-human abilities find Batman's ears, the League is left with no choice but to bring the kid to the Watchtower. The similarities are just too accurate... [Wally West centered. No OCs- canon character under a temporary name. No romance. T for the future.]
1. Chapter 1

The first call regarding the Moore family was in April. Normally the Watchtower wasn't forwarded phone calls about civilians unless it involved a potential meta. Batman had been on monitor duty at the time, watching over the Team as they fought a petty gang on the East coast of Canada. There wasn't much else to do, anyway- the League hadn't been called in for Earthly situations in quite some time. Bruce sighed deeply but softly; he was far from bored, but ached for a quarrel. He would have almost envied the Team and its constant missions if it weren't for the fact that they were slowly falling apart before their own eyes.

Ever since the unfortunate (he didn't want to say 'demise' since there was no real proof that it was such) disappearance of Kid Flash, they'd been having a rough time keeping themselves focused and on task. Batman didn't want to admit it, but after mid-2013, he'd also begun to detach. It wasn't hard, though, with the way poor Flash had virtually disowned his superhero career for several months following the incident. Watching your nephew be absorbed by foreign matter in the process of saving the world must have some serious detrimental consequences. On top of this, Bart had begun splitting off into his own little branch of "hero-business," unable to take one look at Barry without seeing the pain in his grandfather's eyes at the sight of the Kid Flash outfit.

Batman didn't sleep on the job- he was awake too often to feel the effects of sleep so soon after a decent night's rest. However, he couldn't deny the shaking aftereffects of an overabundance of sleep after being a night- and day-owl throughout the past week, and the impressive jolt of his tense body when the phone rang boosted his adrenaline.

"Watchtower," Bruce answered curtly- he couldn't let whomever had called know it was him, the Batman, until he was certain it was a secure frequency led by civilians.

"Ah, yes, hi there. This is Captain Farley, from the Duneglade, Nevada Police and Fire Department." There was a moment of silence, as if the man was waiting for a similar greeting from whom he'd called. There was no such reply, so he continued. "I, uh, I'm calling to a report possible meta down here."

This piqued Bruce's interest, if only a miniscule bit. There weren't many reports of metas these days, what with the growing distrust of non-humans. "Continue."

Captain Farley cleared his throat loudly, as if awkward. "We- um, it's a kid. Surname Moore. They asked to have him looked at. Not by the local hospital, but by you guys up there."

Batman would have chuckled if he'd cared enough. Yes, the never-ending self-absorption of civilians was present even in tiny towns such as Duneglade, Nevada (on which he'd done a quick search during the stuttering Captain's greeting- and running a quick scan to find out that, yes, Captain Farley did exist). The Watchtower could not offer such amenities to everyday citizens, even under such leisurely instances as the action-free week it had been. Bruce decided to humor the man and the Moore family by asking, "Can you tell me the circumstances?"

"Yeah," came the short reply. "His parents got a call from the kid's daycare saying he's showing them a 'magic trick' where he can make his arm disappear-or, kinda disappear- it gets sort of blurry. He won't show his parents, though. Apparently he's also got a habit of wandering off and then suddenly being there again, as if nothing happened."

There was no reply on the Watchtower's end for a few moments as Bruce thought. "Keep the kid down there. Call back if it happens again." The communications system clicked as the transmission ended. No, the kid would not be coming up. The detective highly doubted this 'meta' was anything special- after all, children tell tall tales and run off quite often- Nightwing had made certain of that when he was younger. Give the kid a few weeks to cool down from his five seconds of fame and that would be that.

And there hadn't been another call until almost March. Captain Farley was once again on the other end, sounding less nervous but more cautious than over a month previous.

"It's, ah, the Moore boy again."

This time, both Batman and Martian Manhunter were present. J'onn glanced at Bruce, and the latter returned the motion. "Yes?" The detective prodded as his gaze swept back to the transmitter.

"This time his parents had a direct concern. He's- well, he's become fascinated by looking at his reflection-"

J'onn interrupted, "I understand that this is a phenomenon not unusual to young earthlings. Why have we been contacted?" He gave Batman a questioning glance.

"Well, you see, it's not just that," Farley continued. "Somehow, he's able to vibrate the mirror. He says he likes to look at his reflection when it shakes."

Bruce's eyes narrowed behind the white lenses of his cowl, fingers raising to rest beneath his chin thoughtfully, though the scowl carved into his features was anything but. The martian laced his own hands together and addressed the Captain: "We will discuss this further now. Thank you."

Once the transmission had been closed, J'onn waited questioningly for an unresponsive Batman.

In truth, Bruce was not concerned in the least. If anything, he was merely pondering necessary precautions to be taken with a boy who could likely shatter the glass should it be vibrated at the right frequency. Simple cuts seemed to be the largest threat, unless large glass structures were to be involved.

"We will wait this out. It doesn't seem to be a big problem right now."

J'onn nodded in understanding. His better judgement told him that they should be taking a more in-depth look at the subject, but not once had he ever doubted Batman's word, and he would not now. With a short courteous bow he left the room, shift long over.

In truth, the Batman was now certain that this boy was a meta. There was no doubt in his mind: although extremely young, the Moore boy exhibited telltale signs of non-human powers. He was not concerned for the world around him- he was more concerned for the little boy who might have to be thrown into a reality he knows nothing about.


	2. Chapter 2

There was one last call from Captain Farley.

"S-sir, I believe the Moore situation should be considered an emergency!"

Batman glanced at the communications console, underwhelmed. Somehow, the Duneglade Captain had managed to contact the Watchtower's video communicator, allowing Batman to absorb the fidgety man's mannerisms. He'd already seen the physical attributes of Farley, when he'd commenced the initial search. A stereotypical small-town cop: likely mid-forties, tall and slightly overweight with a short but scruffy beard and a mop of brown hair that seemed to be creeping backwards near the front. He set forth a quite nervous air, but that may have been due to his position at the receiving end of the Batglare.

Bruce grunted. Superman, across the room but managing to pick up on the exclamation, flew over.

"Excuse me, but what's the issue?"

The Captain's worried eyes harbored deep creases near the edges, apparently too frightened to be in awe at the superheroes. "The-the kid, he's dangerous. Real dangerous- we can't keep him down here."

Superman's wide, questioning eyes rested on Batman's white lenses.

A deep growl came from beneath the cowl: "The details. Now."

Farley replied readily. "His house- it's destroyed, almost completely burned down. Father's dead, burned to death. His mother- well, she's in terrible condition. Third degree burns across almost her entire body. Three neighbors must have been caught in some sort of explosion or heat wave because their skin is fried. The kid, though… not a single burn. Not one! Just what the first-responders think is a broken arm and a bunch of minor injuries- bruises, glass shards. Says himself he started it!"

Superman's usually relaxed blue eyes were suddenly not-so-relaxed. Batman interrupted. "Any evidence it's due to his abilities?"

"The oven. There's remains of some sort of food in there. All the metal appliances were the only things in the house not burned down. The oven, though… it's shredded. The forensics guys say it looks like high-frequency vibrations ripped it apart-"

"The boy. You think he did it."

"Well, yes! We need him out of this town. I can't risk more lives being lost."

"I'll be right down," Superman assured him with authority, ignoring the steely glare pointed at the back of his head.

Captain Farley seemed noticeably relieved, but nonetheless still scared. "Thank you so much. It's just… we're officers from Duneglade. Nothing ever happens here."

"The situation will be addressed." With that, Bruce slapped the 'end transmission' button and the screen faded to black. "Are you out of your mind?" His chair spun to face Clark.

Said meta's fists clenched, lines appearing between his brows. "No, I'd like to think not. That town obviously isn't prepared for this kind of occurrence. They need our help!"

Another growl pierced the air. The lenses of the Bat-cowl narrowed and the scowl chiseled into that strong lower-face deepened. "I cannot believe you promised that man some of our forces-"

"I'm not just worried for them, Bruce! That kid just went through something you should know more about than most of us. His parents are either completely or almost dead! Such strong emotions in such a small mind- who knows what he'll do in his grief? We need to get to him before he does something rash!"

With that Superman stormed out of the communications room, seething and seeking Leaguers to accompany him.

In the end, he settled upon bringing along J'onn. The former was more than willing to aid his comrade, having been part of the issue in the past, before it became more serious. Clark was worried that the martian may have more important tasks to complete, but was pleasantly surprised when said hero accepted and flew right to the transporters.

Once on earth, Clark took a moment to glance around at their surroundings. Duneglade, Nevada: a small, quaint town for sure. It reminded him too much of his hometown and forced a nostalgic smile to his lips. Well, it would be quaint, if there weren't an enormous billow of smoke rising from around halfway across town. The heroes quickly made their way to the disturbance and were shocked to say the least.

The house, nearly completely burned to the ground, was no longer blazing. A fire truck was preparing to pack up the large water hose, firefighters roaming around the remains. An ambulance was parked across the street, paramedics rushing a bloodied stretcher into its rear. A scattering of police officers surrounded another stretcher, but this one had been covered with a white blanket. Clark closed his eyes for a moment in respect, but soon flew over to where he saw the distinct form of Captain Farley, realizing that J'onn was waiting for his lead.

"Captain!" Superman called out, touching down lightly several feet behind the man. Clark was only able to capture a brief moment of the man's terrified expression that flicked away to reveal relief when he saw the heroes.

He seemed reluctant to turn his back on whatever his two other officers were kneeling to look at. After a second's thought, though, he ran to meet the Leaguers.

"Thank goodness you've arrived. They're preparing to take away the father, Anthony Moore-" The ambulance screeched down the street. "-And there goes his mother. They're taking her to another county's hospital since ours is more like a clinic."

"Speaking of the boy," J'onn spoke. "Where is he?"

The pained expression returned as the chubby man pointed behind himself. "Over there. Be really careful around him, he's pretty shaken up."

"Understandably," Superman reassured as he and his partner approached the other two officers.

Said men (likely rookies, from their youthful faces and uncertain movements) seemed tense and on edge. J'onn dismissed them, and finally the boy was in sight.

The first thing they noticed was his hair. A curly, bright red shock of it hung loosely on top but was clipped slightly shorter on the sides and back.

Second: he was so _small_. Superman was quite certain that this boy was three years old, but weren't three-year-olds supposed to have a lot of baby fat? This child had none.

Clark knelt in front of him, J'onn doing the same at his side. "Hey, buddy, what's your name?"

The boy looked up, bright green eyes clear and- extremely strangely- free of sadness. "I'm Beau."

A piece of paper was clutched in the grip of his tiny hand, slightly burned at the corners.

"Hello, there, young one. Would you like to come with us?" J'onn asked. Clark almost reprimanded the martian for breaking the 'no strangers' rule all children learned at a young age when Beau spoke again.

"Sure," he chirped casually, as if he'd just been asked if he wanted fries with his meal. "I like superheroes!" The paper was messily folded to an eighth of its original size and shoved into a pocket. He pushed himself to his feet nimbly and told Superman fiercely: "Look at my shoes!" He stomped one foot harshly on the concrete road. "The bats light up!"

And indeed they did. On the boy's little feet were the clunky sneakers with the velcro straps typical of young children, sporting bats- more specifically, Bat-symbols. All over them. Clark nearly burst out laughing, but pushed the urge away with thoughts of telling the Batman at a later date. Remembering just what situation he was mediating stole the grin right off his face. How could he smile at a time like this? This kid could be extremely dangerous. Although it was becoming more and more difficult to think of him as so...

"Yes, they do. Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

J'onn raised a hand to his ear. "Beam us up to the Watchtower, please. We have the boy."

As the blue-tinted light surrounded them in a sort of column shape, Beau studied it in wonder. His smile (in all of its gapped and baby-toothed glory) split his cheeks and he shouted suddenly, not quite remembering where he knew this seemingly funny line:

"Beam me up, Sc-"

He was abruptly in another place.

"-otty!"

What looked like hundreds of tall people surrounded him, all looking down into his eyes as his exclamation echoed around the cavernous room. He suddenly found his light-up Batman shoes much less interesting than they were before- how could he not? The Batman himself was right there in front of him.


End file.
